The Priest We Deserved

The main ingredient of nuChurch.

After the Dancing Dominicans and the Nutty Nun, we now have the Performing Priest. I mean by that the disgraceful chap who had the brilliant idea of singing, probably from the sanctuary no less, some stupid song just after the end of a nuptial mass.

One does not know what is most horrible: a priest without any respect for his habit, a priest without any respect for a sacred building, a priest without any respect for the sacredness of a Marriage – a Sacrament, let us remember: not a show of emotionalism – or a priest without any respect for the Tabernacle – which hey, these days is behind him all the time; so it tends to be somewhat forgotten… -.

One thing this priest saw: an audience.

One thing this priest loved: himself.

And I really, really dare to hope that the alleged surprise was discussed in advance in enough detail to avoid dismay and tears; because to ruin a sacred ceremony in this way without any kind of permission from the spouses would have deserved the to be slapped in the face by the bridegroom; on the spot, and without apology.

But then again, we deserve these parodies of priests. If we praise the Mad Nun from Sicily, why should we not praise every nutcase who thinks he needs an audience for his performance? Why would the next priest not “donate” a rock guitar piece, or a party card trick, or a virtuosism with a football (soccer) ball, or whatever else allows him to show his boundless love for himself?

We praise these nutcases. We find them fun. The most deluded even think someone may be converted from seeing a minus habens make an ass of himself. It's like saying “if we make of Christianity a circus, those who like circus might be converted”. Well, let's make of it a brothel, then. Lots of conversions, methinks.

We are preparing for ourselves a future for third-rate jokers. When the Joker-In-Chief wears a Red Nose to the further edification of his own humble monument, what prevents a nun or a priest to make asses of themselves in whatever way they please?

The fish stinks from the head down. The head of this particular fish stinks to the sky. It's no surprise the stink arrives to the most obscure parishes.

You start with the guitars at mass, you end up with the jokers in the sanctuary, the Pinocchio Masses, the Tango Masses, the Western Masses, the performing nuns, and the rest. It has to be so. It is In the nature of a thinking without love for the sacred, and without any sense of sacredness.

The Novus Ordo must die. Gradually, but it must die. And when it dies, articles like the singing priest must not be allowed to get near a Tridentine Mass; lest they think the reverent silence will let their voice be better appreciated.

Mundabor